I’m seventy-three years old, and a memory of my grandfather standing behind a wood cookstove was stored in my mind some seventy years ago. I have no context, just one memory. My great grandson has turned one, and in a few years, a picture might be formed in his memory of me, his great grandfather, if I’m still around.
I don’t even know my great grandfather’s name. We’re considering six generations here. Blows my mind. I think my medication was missed this morning.
Tell your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children to another generation.
Life, what a trip! Is there any time for conversation with the next generation or the previous one? Give it some thought.
Gary